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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997867">the beginning of it all, last step before i fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiels_Wayward_Sandwich/pseuds/Destiels_Wayward_Sandwich'>Destiels_Wayward_Sandwich</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Canon will absolutely destroy us so here’s some fluff, Fluff, Gen, Idiots in Love, Jon doesn’t realize he’s pining, M/M, Martin living in the archives, Mutual Pining, No beta we kayak like Tim, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 01, jonmartin, like it’s not mentioned at all but he’s definitely ace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:02:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiels_Wayward_Sandwich/pseuds/Destiels_Wayward_Sandwich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is living in the archives, and Jon decided to do something nice for him</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, martin blackwood &amp; jonathan “jon” sims | the archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the beginning of it all, last step before i fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is stupid,” Jon muttered to himself, “he’s probably not even awake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His feet rested on the cold hardwood just outside of Martin’s room. Or at least, the room Martin was staying in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon had been organizing again. It was a task that never seemed to end. When he had finally looked up, the sky was pitch black. His watch read 2:37 AM. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was just about to pack up and leave when he had remembered Martin. The poor man hadn’t had the best week, what with the supernatural worms taking over his home. He had been staying in one of the spare offices that never seemed to fill. It had heat, and there was plenty of room, but Jon certainly wouldn’t want to be in Martin’s shoes. He had stayed from sunset to sunrise many a time, but to sleep there? He shivered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon knew he wasn’t always the nicest to Martin, but it was only right to do something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, he kind of missed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Missed having him work at one hundred percent. The worm situation had messed with his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That didn't quite explain why he wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>him though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was how he had ended up standing in front of his coworker’s bedroom with a steaming hot cup of tea cradled in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which was approximately thirteen different shades of weird. Yes. This was all weird. Whatever. He would turn around, pretend he made the tea for himself, and go home. Maybe he could get a couple hours of sleep before sunrise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tea lapped gently at the sides of the cup as Jon turned around. He flicked on his flashlight. The hall stretched long and quiet in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon? Jon is that you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized the muffled call came from Martin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon? If that’s you would you mind answering? Because if it’s not you, it’s those worms again and I realllly-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes,” Jon interrupted, “it’s me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a moment’s pause before Martin opened the door. He leaned against the doorframe, glasses askew on his weary face. His hair was sticking straight up, and his sweater was rumpled. His mouth moved, but Jon heard no words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er... what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you still doing here? Other than trying to give me a heart attack. It’s two AM, for Christ’s sake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon raised the cup. “I um, made you tea?” His voice raised at the last word, like a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin’s expression changed. “You... made me...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured it was the least I could do for a displaced colleague,” Jon shrugged. Martin had the smallest hint of a beard and for some reason, he couldn't stop looking at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, thanks.” Martin took the tea. Their fingers brushed for the briefest of moments. Why did Jon notice that? “Do you want to come in? Or-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, ah, really should be getting home. It’s rather late.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Yeah of course. Yeah, okay then.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon turned on his heel and started walking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned his head back around. “Mm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, really.” It was too dark to see Martin’s face, and Jon certainly wasn’t going to shine the flashlight in his eyes to look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Then he cleared his throat. “Just doing my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is stupid,” Martin mumbled, “I shouldn’t even be awake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head rested on a flimsy pillow. The thin blanket seemed to be opposed to actually doing its job. He was freezing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He missed his home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His little home that wasn’t much but it was certainly warmer than this. It was cozy and comfortable and </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or at least, it had been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His thoughts chased each other in lazy circles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you fell asleep you wouldn’t feel this lonely can’t fall asleep here I miss home I hate it here if you fell asleep you wouldn’t be-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That noise. Had there been a noise? It had certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a noise. What did noises sound like again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There it was again. There was something just outside his room. He was sure of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squeezed his eyes shut and called out. “Jon? Jon is that you?” Jon worked late fairly often. It would make sense for it to be him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wouldn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon? If that’s you would you mind answering? Because if it’s not you, it’s those worms again and I realllly-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes” Jon interrupted, “it’s me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh thank Christ,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Martin whispered. He foraged around on the desk for his glasses and smooshed them onto his head. He made a hasty attempt to fix his unruly hair and abandoned it just as fast. It was no use. Jon would just have to deal with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin opened the door, bathing Jon in the light from his room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. His cardigan was haphazardly tucked into his long skirt, and his boots were untied. Martin shouldn’t have worried about his hair. Despite Jon having twice as much, it seemed to defy gravity. It looked like it was trying to jump off of his head in every direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin realized he’d been staring. “What are you doing here?” He blurted, face aflame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon blinked like he was waking up from a dream. “Er… what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin’s heart was still pounding. The shock was beginning to ebb, and in its place lied only annoyance. “I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you still doing here? Other than trying to give me a heart attack. It’s…” he glanced at his phone, “Two AM, for Christ’s sake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raised his hands, and Martin realized he was holding something. A cup. “I um, made you tea?” He said it like a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin cursed inwardly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He had just been starting to get over that stupid crush of his. </span><em><span>Now</span></em><span>, what was he supposed to do? He opened his mouth to say something, ideally something suave and smooth,</span> <span>but all that came out was “You… made me…?”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured it was the least I could do for a displaced colleague.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So that’s what it was, then. Charity. “Well, thanks.” He took the cup, pretending he didn’t care about how their hands touched. “Do you want to come in? Or-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, ah, really should be getting home. It’s rather late.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Yeah of course. Yeah, okay then.” Martin watched as he turned back toward the dark hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, really.” Martin stood just in front of his door. He hoped he was too backlit for Jon to see his face. He didn’t want to be an open book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Jon’s voice carried a weight Martin didn’t think he’d felt in it before. The weight settled somewhere between his lungs and made a home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Jon cleared his throat. “Just doing my job.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon paused. For what, Martin wasn’t sure, and then walked away. Martin waited until he couldn’t see him any longer, and closed the door. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you liked it!! We’re going to be murdered in cold blood by canon and this is how I cope &lt;3</p><p>If you liked it consider leaving a comment of your favorite part, or your most self indulgent fic idea (because I need more to write lol)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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